


the name of a home

by eurydicees



Category: Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bittersweet Ending, F/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 01:27:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21929095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eurydicees/pseuds/eurydicees
Summary: Five different names Eurydice has for home.
Relationships: Eurydice/Orpheus (Hadestown)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	the name of a home

**Author's Note:**

> This was my secret songbird gift for @ratcarney on tumblr. The artwork can be found on my tumblr @eurydicees.

**I. a cage**

He once sang a song that was so beautiful it brought a flower into his hands, the perfect size to fight behind her ear. He once sang a song that pushed all the stones apart and built a road down to the place that no man leaves.

He’s brought his song down to hell. He’s brought the kindness aching in his words down to the place where only bones can ache. He’s always been the brave one, between the two of them.

Now that she can hear him sing again, she’s remembering that things had been beautiful. They had been in a place with song, with sun, with dance. She had danced with him, falling further into the place between his lungs, in the place where you keep secret things safe. She had closed her eyes and let him catch her. 

_I only buy what others choose to sell._

But that’s all a memory now, isn’t it? She’s remembering things, but he can’t bring her home. Hades-- the one who owns her now-- is telling him to go. And he needs to listen. 

She made a choice, she knows that. It was fueled by fear, by desperation, and she knows that it was a mistake, but it happened. She knows now, how much he loves her, but it still happened. She still left him behind. 

There’s a tragedy in that story-- in the lovers who left each other in favor of security. In lovers who found hope in other places. In lovers who forgot what was important. 

It’s a familiar mistake, if she’s being honest with herself. But something felt different with Orpheus. Like this wouldn’t happen. Like she wouldn’t get scared, like she wouldn’t get hungry. Like the world would suddenly get brighter and warmer with him holding her hand. 

But the winter always comes, doesn’t it? 

_It’s true._

Orpheus. Her heart has always been his. But he needs to leave. 

There had never been another road. There had never been any other options. This is an old story. One that repeats itself again and again, for as long as money is what makes the world spin around.

Money is the root of all things-- the trees which bend their branches down, the railroad which brings the train in, the birds which fly around. Money is what brings her down to hell, and money is what keeps him from saving her.

_My heart has always been yours._

It’s a funny thing, ownership. What does anyone own? What does she own? Nothing, really. She doesn’t own her own body or her own labour. Does she own her own thoughts? Her love? 

Her love is gone. Oh, Orpheus. 

**II. a smile**

_Come home with me?_

_Is he always like this?_

Trust. That is what she has for him, in this place where the sun shines. They dance, in the way that only lovers do, and she trusts him to lead her. His arms were close around her shoulders, leading her across an empty ballroom. The lights are flickering, and the heat is out, but in this moment, the whole world is just for the two of them. The two of them, his song, and her dance. 

_You want to take me home? Sing the song._

They’re dancing at the end of the railroad tracks, far past the train station. There’s no one around, just the two of them in the moonlight, holding each other close. The moon is silver against his cheek, his eyes almost glowing. They’re safe, in her light and his arms.

She laughs, for the first time in a long time. She had been cold, shivering, no money for food or drink, no match to light a candle, but he is holding her anyways. He makes her laugh, and she was his from that moment. 

It’s dangerous to give away things that you don’t have multitudes of. And a smile is a scarce thing in this world. It’s a precious, fragile thing. But Orpheus gives his smile away so easily, without any kind of fear. At first she wasn’t sure if it was naivety or stupidity, but now she realizes that it’s something else. 

It’s trust. Trust that no one will hurt him. Trust that people won’t take advantage of this kind, sweet smile. Trust that people won’t steal it away when it is all that he has. Trust that she won’t steal it away. 

A smile is its own type of home, she thinks. She finds a home in his smiles. She burrows between his fingers, slips between his lips, hides herself in his chest. He lets her, so willingly. He promises to keep her safe. And that’s enough, for now. 

There’s sunlight all around, isn’t there? Sweet trust, sweet love. It’s all made of light, made of bright, fiery things. Orpheus is one of those things. He’s so easy to love, she thinks. 

_La, la, la, la, la, la, la._

Love isn’t new, never has been. It’s what makes the world spin around. The way she falls in love with him-- it’s song. Music. It’s the sound of his voice with the strum of his guitar with the smile on his lips. Something about him has always been lyrical. 

The way she falls in love with him-- it’s irreversible. 

_It will always be like this._

**III. a song**

_I have no ring for your finger._

Eurydice doesn’t care. She has other things, things she hadn’t known how lucky she was to have. She has a name, she has an identity, she has Orpheus, she has a home. It’s something. Something important. Not food, not warmth, but laughter. A reason to live. 

Life is about more than not dying. Orpheus, Eurydice thinks, knows that. In an intimate way that she has never known. 

She’s always been desperate, in some form or another. She’s always been on the run, looking for the next meal or next drink or next laugh, and never quite finding it satisfying. The wind is always chasing her coattails, the cold is always eating at the tips of her fingers, and she’s always been afraid. She can’t remember a time when she wasn’t afraid. 

There are so many reasons to live, even when living gets hard, even when the winter gets cold and stomachs grow hungry. They were supposed to face all of that together. The blizzards and the fires and the hunger. She left him, but he came back and found her. He found her, behind the stones and mines and diamonds. He found a piece of coal and made it shine. 

He’s here. That means more than anything. 

He is her home. Not where they are, not where they find food or money or shelter. Not four walls and a fireplace. Orpheus. His words, his kiss, the riot he’s leading in her name. His song. 

_Can’t promise you kind roads below._

It’s more than a song, isn’t it? It’s a hope, put into words. It’s a dream, made tangible. It’s Orpheus, laying his heart out bare for her to hold. Giving her his hand and asking her to take it. Not sure, never sure of himself, but hopeful. Life is about more than surviving. It’s about all the reasons you want to survive. 

She doesn’t need fair skies or kind roads. She needs someone to hold her hand while they walk through the winter, while they brave the cold. She needs someone to wrap their arms around her while they make their way through the world.

They’ll do it together, rather than alone. It’s a terrifying world when you’re on your own, but Eurydice wouldn’t ever have to be alone again. Not while Orpheus is offering up his hand, no, while he’s offering his love, she’s going to take it. She’ll give her love back to him, and that will be enough. 

Not enough to keep them alive, but enough to make them want to be alive. 

_Just walk beside me, love._

**IV. a hope**

He turns around. 

No matter how many times she replays it in her mind, no matter how many times she whispers the lyrics to his song, no matter how many times she calls out his name, he turns around. He always turns around.

She gets one last glance at his eyes before the ground sinks below her. One last glance at his lips. One last glance at his hand, outstretched. The light-- hitting his face, coming from behind. 

He turns around, and she sees his face, and she whispers his name, and then she is gone. Below ground. The sunlight disappears behind the wall, the sound of the mines takes over her ears, overwhelms her, floods her with the sweat and dirt of it all. Orpheus disappears. 

The workers are there, they find her kneeling at the foot of the wall, staring up at the dirt. One of them takes her hand, leads her back to the mines. She gets to work. 

He turned around. The moment runs on a loop: the horror on his face as he sees her, the sheer desperation of it all. She reaches out for him, and in her dreams, they touch. Their fingers interlock, and he holds on to her. He pulls her up from the muck of Hadestown, and he wraps his arms around her and whispers that everything will be alright.

They’re singing his song now, the workers. It’s a hum in their veins has they throw down the axes. It’s the beat of their steps as they march farther into the dark. It’s the tears they don’t let anyone see. 

_La, la, la, la, la, la, la._

Eurydice remembers him. She won’t forget, she swears it to herself. She says his name over and over again, tasting the sound of it on her tongue, something sweeter than sangria and more bitter than gin. It’s a comforting sound, no matter what the moment calls for. 

Sometimes she has to remind herself that it all happened. That she had nearly escaped. That he had turned around. 

One day, she will forget. 

But his song-- it runs in her body now, it’s electric, part of the neurons in her brain. A song to fix what’s wrong, to bring the world back into tune.

_Then I’ll marry you._

She sings it to herself, quietly, when no one else can hear her. A canary in a coal mine, singing something sweet. A song from a time when things were still beautiful. It’s a sad song, but a hopeful one. One that keeps her marching along, as if things will change one day. She’s not sure if they will, but she will keep marching and keep singing anyways. 

_In the springtime._

She can hear his voice, in the dead of night. She can see his smile, when she closes her eyes. She doesn’t have a place in Hadestown, not the way things are. She doesn’t belong here, to the mine and to Hades. She belongs with Orpheus. A voice in his song, a _la la la_ in his melody. A hand to hold. 

She knows it. There are things worth living for, worth working for. Orpheus is one of them. When she sings the song, she remembers him. She remembers what it feels like to hope.

It’s a good feeling. 

**V. a beginning**

She wakes up outside, shivering. The wind is getting cold, and her first thought is that she needed to find shelter. She doesn’t know where she is or where she had last been. She doesn’t know where she’s going, either, just that she needs to go. She has the feeling that she’s been on the run for a long time. Looking for a home, never looking back. 

There’s the sound of a train, coming closer. The train must be coming from somewhere, must be going somewhere. She finds the train easily, walking in a straight line through a ghost town. From there, she follows the tracks west, the setting sun running over her. 

_Girl, come on in from the cold._

For some strange, unfathomable reason, she has a song stuck in her head. She’s lost somewhere, freezing cold, the wind worming through the holes in her coat, and she has a song stuck in her head. She can’t quite place it, but it keeps her walking, keeps her moving forward. 

It’s a hopeful song. There’s something at the end of the railroad line. Something beautiful.


End file.
